A misplaced darling...

Sometimes nothing happens. For days. You plod along, writing, writing, writing. Maybe just fifty words here, twenty words there, and sometimes going backwards, wielding the delete key decisively, telling yourself this is progress because your story will be better without that bit in it. A misplaced darling. Darlings have a habit of being where, really, they are not needed. Truthfully the road to publication is littered with dead darlings. Lots of them. Ghostly, blue and lost.

So the plodding goes on and it can make everything feel like a plod and, when you consider that onomatopoeically, that is not a good thing (I am sorry if I spelt that word wrong but honestly I tried about 15 different spellings and spell check didn't like any of them so if I have just invented a word I can spell it as I choose). Anyways I have been infected with plod. Even while part of me likes the slow, even pace of doing my own thing, I yearn for the excitement of results. Sales, reviews, mentions, requests for my involvement in exciting things. And it has come to my attention that the things I dream of and hope for are not the things that come true. The things that happen are the unexpected. This is a bit head-messery and I would like to point out that dealing with the disappointment of hoped for things not coming to pass, while responding to the unanticipated requirements of the unexpected is at times rather challenging. No wonder my blood pressure is misbehaving.